#luc writes

[maydei]

being on main with me irl is truly an experience

[svnflower-writes]

Hey, if you are up to it can you write something with Nikolai Lantsov, where the main character is his first army general. and Maybe in a battle the mc got hurt very badly, And Nikolai is fully heart broken and panicked But still trying to play it cool so no one would realise he has feelings for her. So he goes to meet her late at night in her tent, just to check in, and you know make it a little hurt comfort fluff, or maybe add some angst, Up to you. I just need inspiration for a new before bed scenario/daydream

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!first army general!reader

Warnings: blood, injuries

thanks for the request!!

ok wait i’ve never written for the grishaverse so this may be terrible but we’ll see (also i wasn’t sure if you wanted him to be with the mc already or not but i made it an established relationship i hope that's okay xx) (I actually kind of hate this one ngl not my best work i'm so sorry but i hope its okay)

y/n isn’t used because i know a lot of people don’t like it, she/her pronouns used for reader

hurt/comfort + reader uses humour as a crutch A LOT + nikolai is very scared of being a disappointment :( 

Many of Nikolai’s army generals have been hurt, and it always upsets him. But right now? It’s taking every ounce of self control not to go find you and hold you in his arms—but that would be weird on many different levels, partly because no one in the first army—or the world, at that—knew anything about what was going on between the two of you. It was only the early stages of your relationship, you’d been officially dating for a month. Although Nikolai wanted to tell people, you did not out of fear that your fellow members of the first army would see you differently—and Nikolai was a respectful man, he would never push you into anything you weren’t ready for.

So, when he heard the news that you were hurt, he had only just managed to keep himself from asking an obscene amount of questions as to where you were and how long ago the injuries had taken place, keeping it to a simple: “please make sure she gets her injuries treated to as soon as possible.” 

Two hours after he had received the news, he sat in his tent, trying his hardest to get at least a little bit of sleep but failing miserably as he kept tossing and turning wondering if you were okay. He almost felt stupid, being so worried about you (he knew you were strong and you would get through this perfectly, and he had complete faith in you) but he really couldn’t help it. After another half an hour, he realised that he wasn’t going to get any sleep unless he knew you were okay. So, in the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun had even begun to bathe the army camp in warm light, he pulled himself out of bed. He hurriedly got changed and began his walk to your tent. 

He arrived at your tent and quietly asked, “it’s Nikolai, can I come in?”

There was a short moment of silence before you responded, “yeah, of course. Was wondering when you’d show up.”

Once he was inside the tent, he looked around. His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you alive and well, and a small smile graced his lips. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still up, darling. You should be sleeping so that you heal faster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “and yet, here you are. In my tent, keeping me awake.”

He grinned slightly, “just had to make sure you were okay.”

“Hmm, so you do this for every general who gets hurt? That must take you a lot of time—very thoughtful of you.” your teasing smirk made his heart leap slightly.

“Well, you are very hurt, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, speaking of me being very hurt, could you pass me that fresh bandage? And the tray next to it?”

He instantly grabbed the bandage and tray, “are you okay?” 

You nodded quickly, “yeah, some of the stitches broke just before you came in—I don’t want to wake up anyone so I figured I’d just do it myself.” 

Nikolai frowned, “absolutely not.”

You sighed, “you’re not letting me fix the stitches? Do you want me to bleed out?”

“I just don’t want you to have to do it yourself, you deserve to have someone tending to your wounds.”

You scoffed lightly, a playful grin painting your features. “So are you going to tend to my wounds, your highness?” 

“Yes.” 

You blinked quickly, doing a double take. “What?” 

He smirked, “I said yes.” 

“I thought you’d just get someone-”

“Absolutely not.” he repeated his earlier words, “I’m going to help my girlfriend heal as soon as you possibly can, and I will do whatever I can to help you.”

As he took care of your stitches, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until he spoke up. 

“I was terrified when I heard that you were hurt.” 

You watched his face carefully as he continued to speak. 

“Couldn’t even sleep, I was so worried.” 

You gently took his hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to it before laughing gently, “well, if you think you were scared, imagine how I must have felt.” 

Nikolai didn’t laugh with you, “that’s exactly what I was thinking. You were hurt and I wasn’t there for you when you got hurt and I should have been there and–” 

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “no, don’t say that. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t have known.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now focus on making sure I don’t bleed out, and then we can cuddle.”

[svnflowermoon]

Hi!!!! first of all you're literally so cool anddd do you have any tips for writing bc I have a lot of ideas and I really want to try writing!!!

omg thank you so much and yes! i wouldn't say im the most organised writer but i write A LOT and i get a lot done.

to begin with, this advice might not work for you. make sure you work at your own pace and don't do anything that'll burn you out! i don't know what you want to write, but no matter what it is, you shouldn't edit while writing. finish what you're writing and THEN go through and edit because otherwise you get stuck in a permanent cycle of perfectionism (i would know lmao)

(this works for me but idk if it'll work for you) literally write whatever comes to your mind and do not delete it until you come to the editing process. you can add and delete as much as you want in the editing process but you want your draft to have enough to work with. I like to have a set number of words I'll write each day and because I don't delete as I write i often write maybe 3x what I say I will!! if you want to set yourself a daily word count, make it something that doesn't sound intimidating to you. 50 words? great! 100 words? great! 200? great! you can always start off at a smaller number and work your way up as you get more confident in your writing skill :)

(this stands for all writers) write what you want to write!! don't write what you feel the audience will enjoy, write it as if no one will ever see the writing and be self indulgent. write whatever you want to write because if you enjoy writing it then it'll be better!

i hope this helped and this was kind of what you were looking for, if you want any more advice feel free to send me another ask or message me, also if you ever want anyone to read your work so you can get a second opinion on it I would love to help <3

[lucdoesnotwritealot]

Callion stands leaning against the wall in his room, a quiet moment of thought. He stares contemplatively down at the small black stone in his hand, idly turning it as he pondered.

He thought about how things have changed since he first was given this stone, how they all have changed his mind flickered to the thought of Naiha and how she's been acting recently. She may not want to face it and might pretend that everything is alright but he can tell that something is bothering her.

It makes him worry and it also makes him think that this must have been how they felt when he was refusing to speak about the things that bothered him.

He frowned. It wasn't a good feeling. He felt guilty for putting them through such a thing.

Callion sighed and tossed the gemstone back onto the bed. He usually left a few things here: The gem, his lute, the book he got at the festival. He left them just in case- he shook his head. He didn't want to think like that again but it was just so easy. He'd done it for so long.

Cal forced a chuckle. "Old habits," he muttered sarcastically, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway.

He had to pause as Jaskier and Rex were roughing around in the hallway. Callion felt the familiar pang of anxiety go through him at the sight—"Be careful!" he wanted to say—but instead he put a small smile on his face and took a deep breath in.. and out. He'd always worried about the kids too much.

They can handle themselves, he told himself, trying to ease his nervous mind.

After a moment, Cal continued down the hall and headed downstairs where he noticed James and Finn were talking in the living room Evara was there too, reading of course, along with Umbra and a few others.

A sudden thought entered the wood elf's mind: I wonder how Avixa is doing.

He watched them talk and read for a moment. It was one of those rare peaceful moments.

As he stood there, another thought came to him; Finn had talked to him about the things bothering him and how he felt, and yet Cal hadn't. The guilt returned and this time it was almost unbearable, making him tear up a bit and the oh so familiar knot in his throat return with it.

He took another shaky breath and opted to head outside - it felt too crowded in the house sometimes anyways.

He headed out to the back of the house where he saw more people, Naiha and Hesmiphi practicing their Druidic talents and playing around in different forms.

Callion never understood how natural magic worked—he had some innate magic himself but it was different than how Naiha could draw the power of nature itself to her and use it as both a weapon and a means of protection.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit jealous of her talents.

He tried not to be but it was... special, at least to him it was.

...was Naiha special to him?

Callion tilted his head at the thought, but decided to push it back in his mind. She's got enough to deal with right now, he thought. He didn't want to add more to it.

This time he leaned against the side of the house, out of sight of the two Druids and looked out into the forests and surroundings in an attempt to steady himself.

The forest made him think more about the people he'd met Persephone, wherever she may be, and his father who he thought was long dead maybe only a month or two ago..

He was immediately brought to the memory of when he first encountered his father after all those years how mean he was to him. It wasn't his father's fault for leaving, and yet Callion hadn't even listened to his reasoning.

Cruel, he thought, how cruel I was..

He tried to cling to that: was. He was. He isn't the same person anymore and wouldn't do that... would he?

The thoughts wouldn't leave him alone and, the knot in his throat only grew. He forced another deep breath. Think about something else, anything else.

The only thing that he could think of was to study more but he realized he'd have to head back inside to get the book. He huffed in annoyance and looked up to the Sky when another thought came to him.

He could run up surfaces, he knew that, and so he took a few steps back and dashed up the side of the house and onto the roof.

He couldn' t help the smile that crossed his face when he looked down to see that Naiha and Hesmiphi had noticed him now on the top of the house—their home. Naiha waved to him and he waved back ignoring the knot in his throat and his blurring vision from the tears he'd been holding back.

A peaceful moment. He liked those.

[krchov]

10 Words/Phrases Tag Game (the 6 edition)

I got tagged by @greenekangaroo . Sorry for the delay Q-Q

Rules: List 6 words/phrases that have something to do with your work(s) in progress and then tag 6 people to do the same.

I... Gave up on using just a word because most of it wouldn't make sense or would just consist of me yelling about grains and J.J. Bachofen. So it's more likely excepts with fiction and summary with nonfic?

1. Early Neolithic eating habits weren't predominantly grain based because the difference between the energy output needed for gaining a miniscule of "flour" (output and gains based on the '83 experiment re: Malina et al.) and energy input from eating the "flour" is so big that the farmer would starve to death on such diet. In this paper I will fight everyone who is still going with this theory and ignoring orchards.

2. You want to go back to the river and spread your arms like branches for the sparrows to sit at. You like the sparrows. They say very little but tell you a lot;

That the trees are going to the mountainside

and the rivers are finding new plots,

the sun isn't so warm up there, last of the rooks left the field

and the ants by the hill will eat their own queen tonight (you had to ask what sun is; they laughed at you and stroked your cheek. Silly child, they called you, there's nothing like a sun. You don't know if you believe them).

3. The entire world is one open ending.

4. YOU CAN'T APPLY FEMINIST THEORIES ON SOURCE THAT IS ENTIRELY MISOGYNIC AND THEN GET ALL SPITTY WHEN PEOPLE POINT IT OUT THE PALEOLITHIC MOTHER GODESS IS INVALID THEORY THAT IS IN IT'S CORE DOING MORE HARM THAN GOOD GODS WOMAN READ YOUR SOURCES. Also Bachofen is a cunt. In this paper I will fight the entire thing that is radfem American archeology of '80.

5. When our work is finally done, we will go to sleep. And when we wake up, he will be waiting for us - on the hot sands of the City, with the sun shining bright and his hands open wide.

6. Oh! That's a Wrong Type of cellulose

And I tag, uhhhh

@serpuns-a-lot @tarakau @trinuska @panbeing @mouthface @thecrystalmadness are the only people I know that may be writing something or wrote something in the past

[svnflower-writes]

i could never give you peace

description: James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

or

in which James comforts Regulus after a particularly bad fight with his parents.

relationship: bodyguard!james potter x regulus black

warnings: mentions of child abuse, secret/forbidden relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, james may be slightly out of character but idk maybe he's just sad 😭

requested: yes!! @allyeardepression requested this about 4 months ago and i am SO sorry for taking so long writer's block has been kicking my ass omg i started writing as soon as you requested it but it sat there unfinished for far too long. anyway i hope you like it!!!

note: uh ok hi. this is the first thing i've posted in MONTHS and i wrote most of it in class so it's not great but fuck it i had to post something. also... sorry. the first thing i write in five months and it's heartwrenching angst, which is very typical of me. also based off a taylor swift song which is also very typical of me

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54453148

marauders taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @lovefolder @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

James had to pretend that it didn’t affect him, seeing Orion and Walburga treat their children like they did. After all, he was there to work for all of them. But Merlin, he felt bad. The looks that flashed across the younger brother’s face were subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it, but James didn’t miss any small details—especially when they were to do with the little star.

This was one of these moments, James was positioned outside the closed door as he heard the screaming match going on directly behind him. He heard snippets of conversation, words such as ‘useless’ and ‘pathetic’ making their way to his ears and crushing a little bit of his heart. He supposed he was lucky not to be in the room while it was happening, but all he wanted was to rush in and protect Regulus from the harsh words and actions of his parents.

James allowed his head to rest against the wall, exhaling slowly as his eyes trailed over the dark tiles on the ceilings. The decor on the house was not to James’ personal taste, a combination of dark brown, green, cream, and black. He glanced down to the floor, the extravagant geometric tiles making him feel claustrophobic and sick to the stomach. Harsh black wallpaper covered the wall, the dull gold picture frames making a pathetic attempt to soften the unharmonious glare. The paintings in the frames were judging him, the upturned noses and narrowed eyes made that obvious enough.

James and Regulus had been quick to subtly remove the paintings in the hallway outside Reg’s room—Orion and Walburga didn’t tend to go up there, so no one noticed. Sirius had given them a knowing smirk when he’d caught them sneaking down a hall with a covered portrait of one of Regulus’ great aunts, but he had said nothing. Sirius held an undeniable feeling of respect for James, he could see how much he cared for his little brother, and for that he was eternally grateful.

A sharp, high pitched shout broke James out of his trance, and he glanced at the door with a grimace.

Walburga Black was his least favourite person in the whole world. He couldn’t clearly hear what followed the shout, but he had a few ideas of what it could be. He had been in the room when this had happened a few times before, and Sirius had always seemed indifferent to his parents actions—James knew he wasn’t, of course.

It was all just an act in the Black family, everyone simply pretending to be okay and pushing their feelings to the back of their minds. Regulus was less numb to the pain, and while Sirius just sat there sprawled out on the couch, ignoring his parents, Regulus always looked unnaturally stiff. He was trying to copy Sirius, that much was obvious. But it was clear that the words got to Regulus, the way his brows furrowed and he blinked quickly or looked away with fiddling hands.

Then again, maybe there was a reason that James noticed these things—not that he could take much notice of whatever underlying feelings there were anyway, since Regulus might as well be his employer. He knew Regulus felt the same, of course. There were signs, there had been since a mere two months after James started the job. Fleeting glances, brief touching of fingers as James passed him something to eat, waiting for him in the halls— the list could go on and on.

Regulus knew that James liked him too, as James wasn’t exactly subtle. He tended to forget himself when they were around others, such as Sirius or Pandora—which made for a lot of teasing from the two. Barty and Evan couldn’t say much, as they were in much the same situation.

So the two had kept up the secret whispers and hidden gazes, neither boy making any more to further the relationship, even behind closed doors. There was only so much they could get away with, and they were not embarrassed to admit that they were terrified. They were terrified of the nature of their world, the judgements and the prejudice that came with merely trying to exist. They would prefer to be open with each other about their relationship, but they would take whatever they could get at this point.

The door next to him flew open and Walburga stormed out, not even sparing James the slightest glance as she walked past him. Orion followed close behind, the harsh glare painting his face giving James an idea of the severity of the fight. After the brother’s exchanged short hushed whispers, Sirius walked through the door, offering James a small, polite smile. He walked past and James stopped him quietly. Sirius’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is there anything I can do?” At James’ words, Sirius’ expression softened.

“Talk to him. I’ve done as much as I can, but I think we both know that you’re better at this stuff.” Sirius pulled James into a quick hug, “and thank you. It means a lot that you try, seriously. It’s not exactly part of your job description.” Sirius being Sirius, he laughed, but it was obvious that he wasn’t actually amused. James had known Sirius for three years, and if there was one thing he had learnt about him, it was his use of humour as a coping mechanism.

“You go sneak out to Remus, I’ll take care of him.”

Sirius grinned slightly, reaching out to ruffle James’ hair, “aw, you know me too well.”

James groaned at his now messy hair—as if his hair wasn’t always a mess—pushing Sirius away and waving him towards the door, “go find your lover, Pads.”

Sirius was out the door without another word.

James glanced down the hallway to ensure it was empty and walked into the room the fight had just taken place in. Regulus was sitting on the ground and had his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and head leaning against the cushion of the couch. He didn’t look up when James entered, nor when the older boy crouched down in front of him. His face wasn’t betraying what emotions he was feeling, but James knew.

James always knew.

James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

Regulus nodded, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before looking up. “Good idea.” he took James’ outstretched hand to help him up off the ground. Even well after he had stood up, he kept his hand in James’, determined not to let go.

Regulus clearly had something he wanted to say, but his brain was not connected to the rest of his body, still in autopilot from the fight. His eyes were empty and his hands were clasped together in front of him as James gently rested his palm on his lower back to guide him up the stairs. Regulus subtly leaned into the touch, his heartbeat slowly calming and the goosebumps littering his skin beginning to fade.

Merely being near James brought him an unparalleled sense of peace.

James let his hand rub up and down his lower back comfortingly, and for a brief second he considered taking Regulus’ hand in his own but he decided against it. His brain was plagued with guilt, wishing he could rescue Regulus from the cruel reality that was his family. But no matter what James wanted, it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

James could never give Regulus peace.

Regulus stopped walking and James looked up from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor in confusion. He soon noticed that they were in fact directly outside the door to Regulus’ room. Regulus seemed to take notice of the fact that James was lost in his head and he squeezed his hand reassuringly.

After checking if the hallway was clear, James quickly opened the door. He wasn’t really supposed to enter any of the private rooms in the house, but Regulus had insisted many times that it was alright. No matter how safe Regulus felt around him, he couldn’t risk Orion and Walburga spotting him. He really was Regulus’ only source of comfort.

Regulus sat down on his bed with a blank expression on his face. James sat down next to him and pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. He handed it to Regulus with no words spoken, because the pair didn’t need words. This routine was very familiar to the two of them now, it was almost a second nature.

James quickly checked for any injuries—he hadn’t heard anything to make him suspect that there could’ve been a physical nature to the fight, but he had seen enough bruises on the Black siblings to make double checking an automatic part of the procedure. There was one on the side of Regulus’ cheek, and James pulled out the healing ointment from his bag and carefully put a little bit on the bruise.

James pushed the guilt at being unable to protect Regulus from his parents aside, knowing that this was not about him.

Once Regulus had finished, he slowly leaned into James’ side, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. The crook of James’ neck was like a puzzle piece that was made perfectly for Regulus’ head, and as the two slowly relaxed into each other's presence, James let his hands drift up to Regulus’ hair. His fingers slowly entangled themselves into the dark curls as he comfortingly stroked Regulus’ forehead.

It was clear to James that the support Regulus needed right now was not someone to tend to his wounds, but someone to hold him. So hold him he did. James’ right hand moved slowly up and down the small of Regulus’ back soothingly, showing an undeniable caution not to startle the younger boy with any quick movements.

He cared more about the little star than was possible to admit, and he prioritised his safety over everything else. The two lay in each other’s arms for what felt like (and probably was) hours. Suddenly, Regulus shifted in his arms, mumbling something under his breath.

James tilted his head like a confused puppy, gesturing for Regulus to repeat himself. Regulus cleared his throat and glanced away.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…” Regulus trailed off, and James was about to let it go—he wasn’t going to push for him to open up more than he was willing to do.

“...for keeping me safe.”

The dark haired boy’s voice was merely a whisper, head buried into James’ shoulder as he refused to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed, James realised. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

James thought that the two were about to fall back into their silence, when Regulus spoke. “It’s peaceful.”

Giving him an inquisitive look, James turned to face Regulus.

“Being here with you. You’re peaceful.”

James stiffened slightly before slowly nodding, “yeah, I know what you mean. You’re peaceful too, little star.”

You deserve more peace than I can give you.

Regulus smiled up at him, entwining their fingers reassuringly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace than I am when I lie here with you.”

Merlin, it’s like he can hear my thoughts.

Finally, James responded. “You mean more to me than anyone else ever has, little star.”

There was a raw honesty in his tone. He may not love their situation, but he loved the boy in front of him with his whole heart.

No matter where this road was leading, James knew it was where he wanted to go. Whatever the roadworks along the way, he was in this for good.

[svnflower-writes]

rosekiller headcanons

I ADORE THEM AHHHHH

evan drives barty insane by talking shit regulus in french and barty hates it because he's nosy but can't understand a single word

evan calls him "the bane of my existence" and he either says it with so much adoration in his voice it makes reg and pandora want to throw up or he says it so seriously that they believe they lowkey hate each other. and then two minutes later he's pulled barty into a closet to make out.

evan has an insane amount of freckles and barty loves cupping his face in his hands and kissing him

barty has sooo many tattoos dedicated to him it's insane

ok the non-sexual intimacy guys it drives me insane- ok so as much as they like showing off, their best time spent together is their quiet days alone, cuddled on the couch or bed, whispering sweet-nothings into each other's ears and kissing each other's foreheads. they could literally talk for days on end they never get bored of each other's company. they're so soft when they're alone together but they would stab anyone else who saw that side of them.

also on that note, barty's love language is physical touch. this boy cannot go five minutes without running his fingers through evan's hair and tracing the freckles on his arms and mindlessly rubbing his back. this boy is so insane with the non-sexual intimacy

SO MANY PIERCINGS HOLY SHIT

these two bitches know how hot they are, and they make sure that everyone else do too. almost everyone at hogwarts has had crushes on them at some point

they're both jealous but evan is a different level of jealousy

make out on the kitchen counter couple

evan wants to be loved so bad. as in he wants serious princess treatment bc he's been ignored and neglected all his like. he doesn't believe that anyone could ever love him and he struggles immensely with self image

also evan is actually such a sweetheart you don't get it he can be mean but that's mostly bc of the image forced on him

barty has a good fashion sense but evan is a literal disaster

they don't fight. they just stare at each other in silence before the messy kissing starts.

[svnflower-writes]

i wanna find out

part one. ao3 | series masterlist

description: james is confused, but no less confused as he was when he was a high school student and denying his infatuation with his best friend's brother. now, regulus is a regular at the cafe he works in, and james doesn't know what to do.

warnings: none it's fluffy james is so cute

note: (reblog and comment please please please i need the validation) HI HELLO I AM BACK OKAY SO i heard the new gracie song and i went insane bc its so jegulus and wrote this in one hour in english class and its unedited. anyway this is a series, the masterlist is linked at the top. this chapter has been on ao3 since yesterday but i didn't get around to posting it here. lowkey think this is terrible but oh wellll

taglist: (i included the people on my marauders taglist so lmk if you don't wanna be on this one) @thestarslittleking @chaserofstars11 @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @star-ch4ser @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Upon his first week at high school, James Potter had come to the conclusion that he would end up with Lily Evans if it was the last thing he did. She was exactly the kind of girl he liked, she was pretty and opinionated and she seemed like the sweetest person he’d ever met. Remus had chuckled at his lovesick pining, not having the heart to tell the messy haired boy that your crush when you’re eleven years old is never your soulmate.

He pined after Lily for two years, with no clear progression other than Lily awkwardly smiling at him each time they passed in the hallways. Safe to say, James’ feelings were not reciprocated, and Marelne had grown a habit of snickering at the way his eyes followed her down the hall.

A few students at school had thought he was overdoing it slightly, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t overly pushy, and he had only asked her out once or twice. He was clear about his feelings, but wasn't going to make her uncomfortable. James Potter was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an undeniable feeling of heartache when she walked past and ignored his presence.

Now, however, James was in university. He was as over Lily as he had ever been, and he had escaped the inherent unpleasantries that come with being a teen going through the heartache of growing up. He felt undeniably free, and not to mention his psychology course was helping him understand himself better than ever. He was happier than ever, saying otherwise would be a blatant understatement. He was living in a flat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which had been his dream since primary school.

Lily was now one of his closest friends, and she worked at the flower shop that had a door into the coffee shop James worked in. Lily’s law degree and James’ psychology one made them a perfect pair, and much to Remus’ surprise, the two studied together regularly. The fact that James’ attention span and motivation had changed since high school was something no one had expected, and although he still struggled, he had his tactics to get back on track.

Some things never change, though, and James still hated quiet, slow paced days more than death itself. He could deal with stressful, busy days, but the mundane was his greatest oppressor, the repetitiveness of a quiet day driving him to the edge of his sanity. Today happened to be one of those days, he sat behind the counter at the small coffee shop he worked in as customers filtered in once every half an hour.

He sat, watching the slow ticking of the clock as the time went by as slow as it possibly could. It was 12:38pm, and 12:20 felt like hours ago. Blankly staring at the wall, the coffee he’d made himself had been discarded on the counter next to him and he didn’t bother picking it up, knowing that after half an hour of it sitting there, it would surely be cold. Each time someone walked past the door of the shop, James perked up—only to sigh as they walked past without a second thought. James’ tendency to romanticise everything that life had to offer often left him disappointed.

Finally, he heard the bell signalling that someone had opened the door sound, and his head snapped up in relief. ‘ My saviour, love of my life, thank god you’re here.’ his brain sung as he sprung up from his seated position, standing at the counter within seconds of the boy walking into the shop. His signature smile appeared on his face, “hi, how’s your day going?”

The boy seemed to falter, as if his carefully planned interaction of simply ordering what he wanted and leaving had been disrupted by a simple question. His dull blue eyes widened, and his lips fell open in a dumbfounded expression before he picked himself up and showed James a tight lipped smile. “Uh, I’m good.”

James noticed that this small interaction had absolutely foiled his carefully planned coffee order, and the boy had entirely forgotten to say what he wanted. James smiled softly, chuckling in his head. He always thought it was interesting how common these interactions seemed to be when you worked in a coffee shop. The psychology major in him couldn’t help but psychoanalyse these interactions, which made working in hospitality both intriguing and perplexing. He found that you could get a pretty good idea of someone’s mindset and what their day to day life is like by doing this, and it almost acted as revision for his upcoming exam.

“What can I get you today?”

Embarrassment flushed over the dark haired boy’s face, and he automatically sent another tight lipped smile to try and compensate for his forgetfulness. A strand of his soft black curls fell over his eyes, and James could tell just by his body language and the look in his eyes that it annoyed him to no end. “A black coffee, please.”

That was fitting, James thought. With the tidy (almost obnoxiously so) outfit and the carefully styled short black hair, a black coffee was the only thing that really made sense for him.

“And can I have a name for that?”

Stupid boy, you know his name.

“Regulus.”

James knew how to spell it.

He knew how to spell it and he hated that. Regulus was his best friend’s brother, and things between Sirius and his younger brother were rough. They got along until they didn’t. Sirius had spent more evenings than James could count frantically ranting about him on evenings at James’ house after school. When Sirius had left for high school, Regulus had distanced himself from Sirius more than he ever had before. Regulus had always been detatched, and James knew this from Sirius’ extensive complaints.

James he knew he shouldn’t have been so enamoured with Regulus in his high school years as he was, but when James fell for someone he fell for them. He fell for them intensly and irreversably and everyone he had ever loved lived in his heart for eternity. It may seem like James was feeling too insensely, but for him to not love so deeply and fully would mean he was not James Potter. He could not be in any sort of relationship without loving them to the end of the earth. His mother had always told him to cherish this, that his way of loving was incredibly pure and a love that many people would give anything to be the recipient of. But based off his past relationships, his love was not something to be cherished.

“Alright, I’ll have that ready for you soon.”

While he was making the coffee, James allowed himself to watch Regulus, noticing the way his hair was slightly more inclined to falling to the right side of his forehead, the way his greyish-blue eyes fixed on one spot of the wall and didn’t seem to move. He watched as his hands anxiously clasped together in his lap and his foot tapped.

James was a master of the art of noticing, and he tended to read into what people did, more so than was probably helpful. But James had always been observant, even as a toddler he had had an integral interest in people. He understood when people said that the human race was done for, but he was compelled to disagree. He had a sense of optimism that many thought was overbearing, but in the same way, James sometimes found their pessimism slightly disheartening.

Regulus intrigued him, although the boy was made of very few words and made him fiddle with his hands behind the counter and cause his eyes to flutter around the room to look anywhere other than his eyes. Regulus was pretty. He was the definition of pretty, with his wavy black hair and his grey eyes that shone with something James couldn’t quite place. James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. Unsure of what this was, he played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t figure out. It was undeniable that Regulus made James shy, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. This was merely a customer that would show up to the coffee shop once and never again—after all, he hadn’t seen Regulus in the shop at all earlier in the year.

For a reason James couldn’t quite place, there was a hint of awkwardness between him and Regulus. They respected each other, sure, but when they were alone, without Sirius or Remus, James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. He played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t quite place. It was undeniable that Regulus made James nervous, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. Regulus didn’t speak much, and James tried but failed to match this. The silence felt awkward, and he couldn’t go for long sitting in silence with him until he overshared, making the situation more awkward than it had been beforehand.

“Long black for Regulus?”

He says his name, although there is no one else in the shop to mistake the coffee as their own. But James likes the way his name sounds on his lips, as horrifically cheesy as that may sound.

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He’s off-limits and you know that.

Looking up, Regulus looked up and flashed a small, awkward smile, walking to the counter and reaching for the coffee. As his fingers wrapped around the cup, they brushed James’ fingers, and his grey eyes flickered up to meet James’ deep brown ones. “Thank you,” he looked away quickly and was out of the shop before James could even respond.

Okay, James thought, okay, this is okay. He just has to make it out of the shop and then I’ll never see him again.

But then Regulus stops halfway out of the door, sending James a wonky smile and a soft “I’ll see you around.” His eyes are twinkling with something unrecognisable, and once he leaves James allows himself to breathe and forces the dorky smile off his face as he swears under his breath.

Stupid, stupid boy.